Reunions by Firelight
by NotMarge
Summary: Raven returns to Xavier Manor. And Hank. A retelling and expansion of a deleted/alternate scene from Days of Future Past. Occurs between Charles contacting Raven at the airport and Hank taking Charles and Logan to his media room. In this reality, there's an evening between those two events.
1. Flatline

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.

And I'm kinda surprised Hank doesn't turn to the Dark Side with all the crap he endures.

Reunions by Firelight

 **Author's Note: My OC Hope does not exist in this reality. I just couldn't do that to her or Hank.**

Flatline

* * *

Hank McCoy stood silent and still. Staring at the shattered glass and metal of one of his finest and best inventions.

A muscle involuntarily twitched somewhere along the five o'clock shadow of his defined jawline. He slowly clenched his jaw, tightening and tightening until his entire skull ached with the tension.

It was the only movement in the vast, empty space.

In the entire _universe_ maybe.

He stood there, all of his vital signs beating and coursing in normal, average regulations.

If he could have felt any emotion, it would have been outrage. Mixed with humiliation. And an overwhelming despondency.

But he couldn't.

His entire emotional being had completely flatlined.

A lie detector test measuring emotional reactions and fluctuations would register absolutely nothing.

Not a blip, not a bleep, not a waver.

Nothing at all.

A trick, it had all been a trick.

And something in him had known, whispered, surreshed, the truth at the time.

And he had not listened.

He had been in his media room.

Searching always, searching.

Searching for more information, searching for answers.

Searching for her.

And suddenly he'd known somebody was out there.

Approaching the house. Drawing closer.

And he'd gone to investigate.

He wished now he'd stayed there, ignored his instincts.

Stayed hidden.

But he had not.

* * *

His heightened beast senses flared as he opened the door.

Her.

Raven.

In that form.

Her form.

His favorite form.

 _Oh my god, you're beautiful._

She stood, looking a little surprised at being caught sneaking . . .

 _Into? Out of?_

. . . the front door of the mansion.

Her beautiful blue eyes gazed sadly at him as she moved forward.

And his brilliant genius brain fumbled through a myriad of feelings and thoughts more rapidly than even he could process them all.

 _You're home._

 _You're beautiful._

 _Why are you here?_

 _I've missed you._

 _I'm sorry for everything._

 _What the hell?_

"I guessed I just realized I had nowhere else to go," she explained, looking lost and alone.

He wanted to believe.

He wanted to.

So bad.

But. . .

 _Grrrr . . ._

 _For the love of science, Beast, not now._

She wasn't here for him. She couldn't be. She was here for . . .

"Okay, I've got to wake up Charles. He . . ."

"No, don't," she suddenly implored, sounding anxious. "Just . . . wait."

 _Uh, okay. Not quite ready for a family reunion with Chuck the serumhead? I don't blame you._

Still . . .

 _What the hell_ are _you here for then?_

She moved past him into the main house like the woman who'd lived here for so many years, much longer than Hank himself had.

And at the same time, like a complete and total stranger.

He watched her go, struggling to process her sudden presence back into his life.

Then he closed the door.

And followed her.

* * *

 **Hello, X-Men fic-ers! Been a while, yeah? I've been lost in a land of confusion of American Horror Story (save me) and Mad Max: Fury Road (boo-yah!) writing.**

 **So anyway, this fic is a retelling and expansion of a deleted/alternate scene from Days of Future Past. It occurs between Charles contacting Raven at the airport and Hank taking Charles and Logan to his media room. In this reality, there's an evening between those two events.**

 **Ah, *sighs happily* I'm rarely happier than when I'm writing for Hank McCoy so I hope you enjoy this. First we'll watch from Hank's POV, then Raven/Mystique.**

 **Finally, thanks to brigid1318 for pushing me to watch Rogue cut and write this scene. I hope I did this right for you, sweetie.**

 **As always, everybody appreciates feedback. Leave a review if you like.**


	2. Animal Urges

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.

And I'm kinda surprised Hank doesn't turn to the Dark Side with all the crap he endures.

Reunions by Firelight

Animal Urges

* * *

The first thing he did was light a fire in Charles' study to take out the February chill and damp.

Then he retrieved the necessary medical supplies to treat her leg.

And knelt before her in the dim firelight . . .

 _Not really the proper medical working conditions. What is wrong with me?_

. . . as he tended to Erik's . . .

 _Your metal bending boyfriend really sucks, you know that, right? And he's freaking psychotic._

. . . bullet wound.

He forced himself to focus on her leg . . .

 _So smooth, so shapely ._ . .

. . . while his beast senses ran completely amok . . .

 _Oh god, you smell good. . ._

. . . with overload . . .

 _I can feel your breath on my skin . . ._

. . . after so long away from her.

He didn't talk until he was done, having chosen to utilize all his energies into maintaining his trademark stoicism in her overwhelming presence.

"You really shouldn't walk on this," he advised as he finished up, already suspect of her answer.

"I've had worse," she replied indifferently.

What had she done? Where had she been?

But most importantly, why was she back after so long away?

"So, you've been living here all these years?" Raven questioned, her voice soft.

 _Oh yes, and it's just been a sheer_ delight _, let me tell you._

He shrugged a little, attempting to keep his tone even.

"Yeah, someone had to take care of Charles."

 _You know, while you were off traipsing around the world becoming . . . well, whatever the hell you are now. Somebody had to stay and be responsible for your self-pitying brother._

"You know, he's missed you."

 _Not enough alcohol in the world to dull that sentiment, I suppose. Gave it the old college try though._

"He misses who I _was_ ," she corrected, sounding sad and a little bitter.

 _Who? Oh, you mean that bright, vivacious, sweet girl who danced on couches and made mutant outcasts feel warm and welcome? Yeah, don't we all._

"I'm not who he wants me to be anymore."

 _What, a cold blooded killer? No, not really, no._

"You know, I've missed you too," he confessed, daring to look into her beautiful, veiled eyes.

 _Well, that just slipped out, didn't it?_

But her reserved gaze melted just a little . . .

 _Oh to hell with it, be honest, McCoy, yeah, I meant it._

. . . and she reached out and gently caressed his cheek.

 _Oh god, so long, oh please don't stop. I missed you and I've dreamed about you and I'm sorry for . . ._

"So you're like this all the time now," she stated blankly.

 _Oh damn, going down this road now, are we? Bet this won't end well._

And slowly pulled his glasses off.

He let her.

"Like what?"

 _Stalling, stalling. Just a jackass for stalling . . ._

"This," she replied, stroking his face, slight disdain coloring her reaction.

 _Me, the_ original _me? Yes, I am like me. Thank you for noticing._

"No, not all the time," he relented, trying to sound nonchalant. "I take a shot in the morning . . ."

 _Every single damn morning for ten years, can you imagine that?_

Every single morning for ten damn years. Never once waking up without the thought, the need. Never waking up to a beautiful sunrise or the possibility of a wonderful day without first stabbing oneself with a needle full of golden fire.

". . . and I need another if I get worked up."

 _Which for a man of my chronological age is a real kick in the crown jewels, if you get my meaning._

 _By the way, you smell delicious._

"Worked up?" she repeated, obviously requesting a further explanation.

 _Oh for the love of science, you're going to make me say it, aren't you?_

He stuttered a bit, but finally managed to spit out the words.

"Yeah, you know. Emotional. Or . . ."

 _You know, sometimes you can can be a real bitch, Raven. . ._

". . . excited."

 _Why am I letting her do this to me? Making me say these things? Wanting to believe she actually cares?_

But he kept on going.

Feeling compelled. Driven.

To reveal his shame and isolation.

To this woman, this creature he wasn't even sure he knew anymore.

"Any . . . animal urges."

During his little 'I'm such a big, bad, uncontrollable beast' monologue, he had drawn closer and closer to her without realizing . . .

 _Sure I do_ . . .

. . . it.

And now they were so close that even if he weren't imbued with heightened feral senses, he would have been overwhelmed with her natural . . .

Smell.

Scent.

 _Musk._

Feeling the the beast rumbling in his overcharged synapses, coursing through his rushing veins.

Or maybe it was her, drawing closer, seeming as hypnotized by him as he was by her.

"Mmmhmmm," she voiced, a sound deep in her throat and he felt pulled to her neck, to see if the vibration there would tickle his lips.

As words still seemed to be flowing out of his mouth into the ever narrowing space between them.

"Usually I can fight them off . . ." he started to reassure.

But then realized he had stopped talking and was all out of words.

But Raven had found some.

They were the exact right ones and the exact wrong ones at the same time.

"Maybe we shouldn't have to fight off things that come naturally to us," she murmured, her words like honey over her lips.

Luscious, luscious lips.

Hank McCoy had spent a long time alone.

A very long time alone.

He prided himself on his self control, clung to it desperately at times. The way a drowning man will cling to a life raft in an ocean of despair and desolation.

He also believed in being a gentleman, civilized and in control of himself at all times.

Which had gotten him pretty much nowhere as he had watched everything good and hopeful crumble around him.

So when this sultry, beautiful woman that he had yearned for so long leaned forward and pressed her full, delicious lips to his, he let her.

And when she moved forward, pressing her warm, perfect body to his, he let her.

And as they slowly sank back onto the soft Persian carpet, with her atop him and her tongue seeking out his, her words echoed in his clamoring head.

 _Shouldn't have to fight_.

And he had one remaining, coherent thought in the jumble of his mind.

 _Okay._

And he let go.

And it felt so _good._

His shirt tore with the rippling muscles of the beast.

He growled in pleasure and desire as she tugged at his lower lip with her teeth.

His claws groped and roamed her tight, willing, scaly, blue body as they moaned and clung to one another.

In heady delight and surging need, he rolled them over, growling, pressing her down beneath him.

And she did not mind, she did not balk, she did not pull away from him as he held her down and hungrily sought her mouth with his fanged one.

And because he was Hank McCoy and his brain fired independently on so many cylinders all at once, there arose a completely inappropriate and fabricated exchange in his mind that he barely registered through the haze of his overheated, overcharged mental processes.

 _"Extraordinary, Hank! We've turned the tide, altered the course of history, stopped the war!"_

 _"Well, not us, Charles. Me. I did it. I stopped the war. With my dick. I mean, love. With my love. Well, both."_

 _"Way to go, Bub! That's really sticking it to her."_

 _"Well, Logan, despite how tongue in cheek that statement may be, thank you very much."_

And because she was real-life Raven/Mystique and not the lusty, busty, siren vixen of his feverish night time reveries, she stopped his not-fighting of his primal instincts.

And wanted to talk.

Talk.

 _Now? Really?_

As unhinged as Hank was becoming, he was still himself, still Henry Philip McCoy.

So against everything in his throbbing, pulsating, feral body, he stopped.

And tried to listen.

He hadn't listened the first time.

Not properly anyway.

He thought he had, deluded himself into believing he had.

But he hadn't.

This time, however, he had a second chance.

This time, he would get it right.

For himself. For her.

For the entire world.

He would answer correctly and provide her safe haven.

Alter the course of reality.

She could stay here. With him.

Loved. Accepted.

She wouldn't have to kill Trask, wouldn't be driven to destroy the world.

They could work together to find a way to keep the Sentinels from being created.

They could find peace.

For the world. For the themselves.

They could right the wrongs of the past, stop the wrongs of the future.

Time did not have to be immutable.

Just this once.

It could be okay.

Because she was back.

And this was his chance to finally get it right.

"Do you remember one of the last things you said to me?"

 _When? Just now? Animal urges, yeah. I'm there. Go._

"That I would never be deemed beautiful looking like this."

 _And the wheel turns back around. Apparently to roll right over my balls here._

 _Cue regret. Hello, guilt._

 _And Goodbye, world's most awesome erection._

"Do you still think that?"

 _Oh crap._

He looked down at her. Saw all the ways this interaction could go. And decided he still, no matter what the consequence, had to be honest.

Because it was just who he was.

Who he _chose_ to be.

"I mean, you saw what happened in Paris," he ventured.

 _Well, not all of it. You didn't see Erik string me up and leave me like a carnival freak in front of all the humans._

"You know what they think of us."

 _Even though it's wrong. Why am I trying to be one of them again?_

But that wasn't her question. Of course she knew. She had been out in it far longer than he had. And she was beyond caring about that.

"What do _you_ think?" she pressed.

And he told the truth.

As he always had. As he always would.

Placing a gentle hand to her scaly blue face, he tenderly stroked the rough skin.

"I think you're beautiful."

But it still wasn't enough for Raven. It never was.

"What about yourself?"

And that's when he knew their time was up.

Because the truth would not make her happy. The truth would cause more talk, more arguement.

Only a lie would satisfy her.

Hank McCoy could not lie.

So he rose from the floor, away from what he wanted most in the world besides a normal human appearance.

He rose with regret and sorrow.

With resentment and not more than a little frustration.

And she watched him go.

"You should, uh, get some rest," he suggested stalely.

He gazed at her through vibrant orange eyes.

So beautiful, so perfect.

So deadly, so absolute.

So beyond everything that he was. Or could ever possibly be.

"I'm glad you're home."

 _I'm glad you're safe. That you're well. That you're not going to destroy the world._

And then he walked away from her. It was all there was left for him to do.

But she still wasn't finished.

She wouldn't let him go.

"Hank, do you remember the last thing I said to you?"

He nodded, not looking back.

 _Of course I do. How could I not? The thing that I cannot accept._

"Mutant and proud," he replied, the words heavy and flat like lead in his mouth.

And then because she would not, he did it for her.

He let her go.

And walked away.

* * *

 **Boy, that scene was . . . riveting. I had to write the Charles/Hank/Logan thing just to break up the tension. Plus, my husband (who is in fact, a _guy_ ) said it's totally realistic for a guy to go full retard like that.**

 **And funny as crap. I got major cool wife points for that. Yay me :)**

 **Ahem, anyway, thanks to brigid1318 and Wholocked221 for showing back up for my newest installment of _As the Hank Turns._ You guys are great!**


	3. Trademark Stoicism

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.

And I'm kinda surprised Hank doesn't turn to the Dark Side with all the crap he endures.

Reunions by Firelight

Trademark Stoicism

* * *

So now he stood before the wreckage of a second destroyed Cerebro. The first being torn apart on the lawn of a secret government facility by the whirlwind mutant Riptide eleven years ago.

The second decimated only hours ago in the very same building as he had spent the long night restlessly pacing and arguing with himself and his roiling, raging emotions.

All because of her.

Raven.

Mystique.

Whatever the hell she wanted to be called nowadays.

That's why she had come to the house.

Not to come home.

Not to see Charles.

And not to see him.

He had only caught her, he knew that now.

Caught her and required misdirection so that she could continue her mission of destroying the only conduit they had for locating her.

Everything that had transpired between them had been a lie.

No matter how much he wanted to believe otherwise.

At the very least, he had been momentary amusement, a cruel revisiting of the past, an unwitting plaything for her to manipulate.

At the very most, she might have been feeling him out to try to begin turning him to her cause.

 _Feeling_ him out.

The muscle in his jaw twitched again.

Henry Philip McCoy took a deep breath in through his nose.

And out through his mouth.

Turned.

Calm, collected, and in absolute control of himself.

And went out to face the next soul-rending event in the constant crapfest of his life.

* * *

 **And that's all for Hank here. Poor guy.**

 **Next up, let's see what in the blue world (heh heh) was going on in Raven's head.**

 **And remember, this is movie middle Raven, not later Raven or comic book Raven. So, leeway, yeah? Just a little.**

 **Thanks to brigid1318 for your honesty and DinahRay (don't think my Nana's willing to stitch _that_ sampler, heehee) for appreciating my little nuggets of funsies!**

 **Thanks to the silent readers of this story as well.**


	4. Coming Home

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.

And I'm kinda surprised Hank doesn't turn to the Dark Side with all the crap he endures.

Reunions by Firelight

Coming Home

* * *

The powerful mutant Mystique stood before the control panel, knowing she had little time but sparing a few seconds more.

After Hank had left her there before the fire, she had collected herself and resumed her original mission here at Xavier Manor.

The destruction of Cerebro.

She knew it would be a shock to him, to Charles. An even more defying insult than ever before. A clear message.

 _Stay away_.

And . . .

 _Goodbye forever._

After all, she might have shielded herself from him all these years but it had been him who had let her go in the first place. And not insisted that she return.

Well, not up until a few hours ago.

 _Come home, Raven._

 _No._

 _You just have to come home._

 _I know exactly what I have to do._

 _Wherever you go, I will find you._

An ultimatum. Her mutant brother who should be standing at her side, had sided with the humans and given her an ultimatum.

And nothing, absolutely nothing at all, was going to deter her from completing her mission. Not even Charles Francis Xavier.

She picked up the dusty helmet and gazed at it, remembering how it had affected them all in different ways so long ago.

Erik's blatant disdain and distrust of it. Even then he had been working to help Charles see truth and reality. And even then Charles had ignored him.

Charles, naïve Charles, so giddy, so excited. Never believing anything could ever go wrong. Especially not with he himself taking the lead. Ready to lead them into a bright and glorious future, side by side with the inferior humans.

She herself, marveling at the technological masterpiece. In wonder and a little fear. For her brother. And his undying optimism. And the possible implications of it all.

And Hank of course. So boyishly proud. Rambling on and on about his invention and inquiring as to shaving of Charles' carefully maintained coiffure.

The sweet, sweet idiot.

And now, everything was different and there was no reclaiming it. Even if she had wanted to.

"I'm sorry, Charles."

 _But I'm really not. I can't afford to be._

She smashed the helmet forcefully down onto the control panel, shattering glass and denting metal beyond repair.

 _I will find you. And if you make me, I will stop you._

 _Well, now you can't._

She turned away from the destruction she had wrought.

Turned her back resolutely on it.

And them.

 _Goodbye, Charles._

* * *

She had suspected she might be detected when she approached the place where she had grown up.

She'd cloaked herself for just such a situation.

It was ingrained in her now.

A lifetime of it. From Charles. From Erik.

Always be prepared. Always be shielded. You never know who's watching.

So when the door opened and Hank's human visage peered out at her in shock, she was a little surprised.

But not much.

It was, after all, his house now, she supposed. More than hers anyway.

She had gone out to face the world and all the evil and discrimination and cruelty in it.

And he, if she was any judge of character, had stayed here.

Hiding away with Charles.

From the world. From themselves. From everything.

Out of fear.

Fear.

As if someone with his powers should be afraid of _anything_.

But he seemed so surprised to see her that she felt a little sorry for him.

She'd always regretted the way things had gone between them so many years ago. And if he had only been able to accept her the way she really was and accept himself, it might have been different.

But if it had been different, she might have been like them, Hank and Charles,

Scared. Hiding. Weak.

Instead of powerful and strong.

And ready to sacrifice whatever she had to to save the world.

For their kind.

For her mutant brothers and sisters.

So she couldn't allow herself regret or sorrow for Hank.

He had made his decisions.

And she was making hers.

"I guess I realized I had no place else to go," she said aloud to him.

Yes and no.

She could not confidently proceed with her plan until she knew Charles could not interfere.

But she was not staying any longer than she had to.

Which now that she was faced with her unassuming McCoy, had now become a bit longer.

Well, she would just have to make it work for her.

The mutant Mystique was nothing if not flexible.

He let her in.

* * *

 **So begins Mystique's version of events. Let's see what you think.**

 **And remember, anything that's a deviation from the original, very first comics, is a form of fanfiction. Even movies and alternate comic book universes. Think about _that._**

 **Thanks to brigid1318 for your review and Nicolas Dreamer for adding your support to this little drama :)**


	5. Taking the Reins

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.

And I'm kinda surprised Hank doesn't turn to the Dark Side with all the crap he endures.

Reunions by Firelight

Taking the Reins

* * *

She watched him more closely than a hawk as he unbandaged, treated, and rebandaged her . . .

 _No thanks to you, Erik, you ass. Even if I would have done the same thing . . ._

. . . wound.

She watched him, measuring him, weighing him.

Watching for signs of an impending attack.

And figuring him out.

It wasn't difficult.

He missed her. He wanted her. He didn't accept himself.

His human form.

Tall. Lean. A little nerdy.

But fine for a human.

That had never bothered her.

She had once rather liked that about him. It meant he was more honest, straightforward. It meant he didn't try to strut, impress.

It meant he was earnest and more sincere than men who thought they had it all.

It actually meant he had it one up on Charles.

Charles, her brother, whom she had loved.

But who sometimes could be a pretentious, entitled, self-centered dick.

But Hank. Hank had always had a big heart. One that he wore right out on his sleeve. Oh, he thought he kept it all hidden.

But it was always out there for the whole, wide world to see.

In those intense, blue eyes of his.

That was the one thing he retained in his true mutant form.

Those baby blues.

And his voice.

So soft and gentle.

Even when he was tearing her apart with it and his uneducated ignorance.

She snapped back to reality.

Knew then what she would do.

She'd convinced him not to alert Charles to her presence. That would have been disastrous. Charles would attempt to get inside her head and she would have to fight him off.

But Hank, Hank was different. With that big, vulnerable, pure heart of his.

She could get inside his head.

And he'd never even know it until it was too late.

She'd done it before, used her human form and 'feminine wiles' (what a ridiculous term) to achieve her goals.

And Hank would be even easier because he already thought he knew her, thought he understood.

And most importantly of all, he wanted to believe.

In her, in them.

 _I can't be sorry, Hank. I can't afford to_.

"You've been living here all these years?" she questioned, beginning the stalk of her prey.

He nodded, thinking he was keeping his emotions close to the vest.

"Yeah, someone had to take care of Charles."

 _You mean that thing that_ used _to be Charles. Ugh, I'd kill myself. Actually no, I'd just leave. Like you should have done_.

"You know he's missed you," Hank continued.

 _Yes, I bet he has. Missed the little sister he could control._

"He misses who I _was_ ," she corrected, keeping her voice even and calm.

Anger and disgust, her real emotions, wouldn't do right now. They would push him away, put him on the defensive. Instead of bringing him closer like she needed.

"I'm not . . ."

 _. . . his mutant pet anymore . . ._

". . . who he wants me to be anymore," she concluded, trotting out the role of sad, vulnerable Raven.

And that was true. She had become stronger, more independent, more powerful than he could have ever imagined her to be.

She had become Mystique.

And she couldn't regret it.

"I've missed you," the lonely, needy little boy in front of her lamented, turning back to himself.

 _Yes, I know. You missed this. You've missed my shoes._

And speaking of shoes, he was wearing his own mask now.

"So you're like this all the time now," she commented blankly, removing his glasses.

Removing his first shield.

He had taken the amazing, perfect, beautiful form he had always been meant to be and hidden it away behind . . . this.

"Like what?"

He was trying to dodge her.

As if.

But they both knew.

This weak, inferior, human form.

"This," she emphasized, showing but a glimpse of her pain at him hiding his perfect mutant form.

And forcing herself to touch his false human face, knowing the effect it would have on him.

And it did. He melted behind that stoic countenance, those blue, blue eyes.

"No, not all the time," he confessed, looking down in . . .

Embarrassment? Shame?

 _Come on, give me what I want. The truth. Your confession. Come on, show me your soul._

"You know, I take a shot in the morning . . .

 _Helluva way to start the day . . ._

". . . and I need another if I get worked up."

 _Ah, there it is. Your soft underbelly. My way in. Well, maybe not so soft. If I play it right._

"Worked up?" she prodded gently.

And he, the lonely, trusting boy, gave it to her.

"Yeah, you know," he floundered, momentarily fighting her quest for his ultimate surrender.

Oh, it hurt him, the drawing into bright light the shame and pain he kept hidden.

But it had to be done.

Because another idea was beginning to take shape in her mind.

So she kept him going. Just by listening and being there.

 _Boy, you really_ have _been lonely. This is so easy._

". . . Emotional," he finally relented. "Or . . . excited."

And there it was.

 _Bingo._

"Any . . . animal urges."

 _Oh, you pitiful thing. You could have been so much more. So powerful. So strong._

 _You could have accomplished so much in the fight for our mutant brothers and sisters._

 _Instead you've denied everything you truly are. Shut it up, locked it down, hid it away._

"Usually I can fight them off . . ."

 _And for what purpose? Does it really make you feel better? Obviously it doesn't. Look at you. You're a shell, a shadow of what you could be._

 _And you want to feel it, don't you? Want to let go and feel the power._

 _I can help you._

 _I can help you set the beast free._

 _And it'll feel so_ good _._

"Maybe we shouldn't have to fight off the things that come naturally to us," she murmured, finally closing her silken net around him.

With her lips.

She kissed him. For the first time ever.

Kissed his human lips with hers.

Drawing out the beast, coaxing it out with her tongue.

 _Come on, Hank, show me who you really are. I'll show you mine if you show me yours. Show me the beast._

She shifted her weight, pressing that boring human body he loved so much fully against him. Driving them both slowly to the floor.

And it was having the desired effect. His heart rate was quickening, his breathing becoming more ragged.

He was releasing his taut, meaningless, stranglehold on the chokechain with which he held the beast in check.

She let his hands roam, knowing the more worked up he got, the faster he would let go of his stupid, weak, false form.

 _Come on, baby, come on. Let go. Feel the power. Feel the strength. Show me what you've got._

She felt his body changing, morphing into the beast. She felt everything . . . growing.

 _Now that's what I'm talking about. Oh wow, that's . . . impressive._

She let her human form go, let it melt away.

Slowly, carefully.

So as not to startle him.

She wanted him to see how much better their true forms were. So he could finally see the truth and accept himself for what he really was.

The Beast.

And he did.

A low, feral growl rumbled from his deep, powerful chest and his fangs nipped her lower lip as his true shape took hold.

The fabric of his shirt ripped and he snarled into his complete beast form.

 _There you go, big boy. How does that feel?_

Apparently, it felt good.

He flipped them over so she was on bottom and he was on top, pressing her down, taking control.

Dominating her.

The little lonely, lost, pitiful boy was gone.

A strong, forceful mutant beast resided in his place, pressing his weight, his _everything_ against her.

And she liked it.

And she knew he did too. By the way he eagerly sought her tongue, growling in pleasure as he did so.

There was time. Just enough.

She'd let him go as far as he wanted, as strong as he wanted.

Just to prove her point that living free and proud was so much better than hiding and denying your true self.

And because it would feel good. To her.

But first, when he was at his most vulnerable . . .

 _The truth. Admit it, big boy. Now's the time. Pop quiz._

"Do you remember the one of the last things you said to me?"

And there she still had the upper hand. For his sake, really.

To make him say the words. And accept.

"That I would never be deemed beautiful looking like this."

That brought him back. Those burnt orange yellow eyes went all the way back eleven years to fateful night when he had ripped her heart out and hurt her worse than anyone had ever or would ever do again.

She could see it. He felt terrible about it.

Of course, he had felt bad about it then too. But it hadn't kept him from saying it anyway.

 _Hurts, doesn't it? Still not as much as me._

"Do you still think that?"

She watched him carefully. If he lied, she would know.

"I mean, you saw what happened in Paris. You know what they think of us."

 _To hell with_ them. _Who cares about_ them _. They're on their way out and don't even_ know _it. Stop dodging the question._

"What do _you_ think?"

He gazed down at her, emotions flooding out of his eyes. If she was any less strong, she would have drowned in them.

And because he was still the tender-hearted, kind boy she had first be attracted to, nerd or no, he reached out and put a clawed hand to the side of her face.

Gently, sweetly.

And spoke.

"I think you're beautiful."

He was telling the truth.

 _Finally. Only took eleven years._

 _You should have said it then. Erik did._

She pushed on.

 _One more question. And this one's for all the marbles. Get it right, and I'll give you a prize._

"What about yourself?"

The moment hung heavy in the air. Everything between them hinged on it.

 _"This is who I'm meant to be," he replied. "Strong, powerful. Blue. Like you. Like us. Together."_

 _She smiled. Her first real one in a very, very long time._

 _Pulled him down to her. And let him take her._

 _They made wild, passionate, feral love over and over all night long._

 _And it was amazing._

 _Charles would be awful confused and angry about the shredded, clawed up state of his expensive Persian carpet when he discovered it._

 _At some point in between their couplings, she explained her plan. And he, his eyes finally being opened to their common enemy, agreed._

 _In the wee hours of the morning, she destroyed Cerebro and though it pained him, he agreed it was necessary to keep Charles off their backs._

 _They killed Trask together and escaped easily from the confused, weak humans. Disappeared from sight and continued on, fighting for the freedom of their mutant brothers and sisters._

 _And watched them finally rise up to reign supreme and free over all._

 _The powerful mutant Mystique._

 _And her Beast at her side._

But of course, none of that actually happened.

Because Hank, the damned fool, wasn't ready to accept himself.

No matter how much he craved her, he craved his pseudo-humanity more.

He drew away from her, all his feral power diminished once more.

"You should, uh, you should get some rest," he suggested, sitting back on his heels.

 _What?_

She reflexively covered herself with her hands, as if feeling violated.

 _What?!_

He looked so sad and once again, weak and lost.

Even inside the beast.

"I'm glad you're home."

Then he got up and walked away.

Despite herself, she sat up and called out to him one final time.

"Hank."

She even used his human name, _that's_ how far she went.

"Do you remember the last thing I said to you?"

He stopped and nodded but didn't turn to face her.

"Mutant and proud."

 _Yes._

Then he did the unthinkable.

He walked away.

And left her there.

Alone.

On the carpet. Next to the fire.

Alone.

She sat. Gathering herself together. Sorting through what had just happened.

Finally she sighed.

 _You and your damn ideals. Damn waste of my time._

Then she got up.

And moved on.

* * *

 **Thanks to the ever present brigid1318 and DinahRay for being here. You are very much appreciated :)**


	6. Setting It Down

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.

And I'm kinda surprised Hank doesn't turn to the Dark Side with all the crap he endures.

Reunions by Firelight

Setting It Down

* * *

She knew how much it would hurt him.

He was a smart guy. A genius, in fact.

He would figure it out.

Her true mission in returning to the mansion.

Not Charles.

Not him.

Not shelter.

Cerebro.

Her anonymity. Her freedom.

At least until Hank rebuilt it.

Which he would.

Because he was Hank.

And Hank McCoy never gave up.

But it would give her the time she needed to complete her mission.

But for now, the truth of her brief appearance at the manor would hurt him.

Badly.

And she had already decided that it was an unfortunate piece of collateral damage necessary in the war against the humans. Against Bolivar Trask.

Still, she had given him the opportunity to change, to accept himself.

If he had, she would have offered for him to come with her.

He would have been a good ally.

A powerful beast with feral strength and staggering intellect.

A pity he wasn't prepared to let go of his pseudo-humanity and his misguided compassion for the humans.

It had felt good too, his body pressed to hers. His tongue, his fangs, his claws.

She would have enjoyed having him by her side, genetic companions, bonded as no one else ever could understand.

If he had only answered all the answers correctly. She would have accepted him.

But he had denied his own mutant self, refused to accept the beauty and perfection of what he had always been destined to be.

And she had no room in her heart, no patience at all for that kind of weakness.

He had made his decision, chosen his side.

And though it pained her, she set it down on the lawn of Xavier Manor and left it there.

 _I can't be sorry, Hank. I can't afford to be._

 _But one day, you will._

 _When the humans you loved and protected so dearly turn on you and tear you apart, you'll wish you had turned your back on them._

 _And aligned yourself with right side._

* * *

 **Well, there goes Mystique off to kill Trask. In the last chapter, we'll bring them back together very briefly and see what you think.**

 **Thank to brigid1318 for your review. Glad you didn't burst into flame, sweetie. ;)**


	7. Farewells Amid the Rubble

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.

And I'm kinda surprised Hank doesn't turn to the Dark Side with all the crap he endures.

Reunions by Firelight

Farewells Amid the Rubble

* * *

The battle was over.

Bolivar Trask saved.

Magneto defeated.

Crisis averted.

And Raven.

Raven had not killed.

She had stopped.

Of her own free will.

With a little help from Charles.

He had let her go.

Given her the choice.

When all Hank had wanted to do was shut her down.

Because he had finally lost the last shred of his hope.

And now there she stood.

All alone.

Amid the carnage and destruction wrecked by Erik The Magneto Lensherr.

Now released and escaped by the permission his dear old friend Charles Xavier.

Raven.

Erik's Mystique .

Abandoned by the man who had first turned her away from the person she used to be.

They had locked eyes, communicated silently, her and the mutant metal bender.

Hank had stood, holding up the man who one day would be known to all mutants as the powerful Professor X.

Held him up and watched them.

And when he, Magneto, had risen up and gone away, she had watched him.

And then when he was gone, she wilted.

Deflated.

Without ally or mission.

And he watched her.

Watched her turn and look at her mutant brother, Charles.

And smile.

As if a peace between them had finally been reached.

A civilty, a treaty, an accord.

And then her eyes shifted to him.

And his heart stopped dead in his chest.

Stopped dead or pounded so hard his entire body thrummed with the strength of the beat.

 _Hank._

 _Raven._

 _Everything I did, I had to._

 _Yes, I guess you feel you did._

 _I'm not sorry. I can't afford to be._

 _No, I guess you can't._

 _You can still come with me. You can still embrace your mutant side and come with me._

 _No, I can't._

 _Your mutant brothers and sisters. They need you._

 _Maybe. But not like this._

 _Then I'm leaving, Hank._

 _You shouldn't be alone._

 _I know. But there's no one else. Goodbye._

 _Goodbye, Raven._

Then she turned away.

And he watched her go, limping away from them on her gunshot leg.

That leg he had tended to.

That leg that could get infected, causing her illness, her death.

That leg that he would never touch again.

He watched her go.

And felt something inside him crack.

* * *

 **And that's that.**

 **Well, what do you think?**

 **DinahRay and brigid1318, you've been great to review everything.**

 **Thanks once more for reading, my friends, and be safe.**


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